legs

I was trying to make the 3rd. race
when I noticed the red lights
in my rear view mirror.
he asked for my license
he said, “you know what you were
doing?”
“no.”
“52 in a 35 mile zone.”
“I was on my way to the track.”
“we know.   they all come through here.”
“I’ll be watching for you,” I said.
“and we’ll be watching for you,” he
told me.

I still got there 18 minutes before
the 3rd. race.
there was a woman sitting with her skirt
pulled very high and she had excellent
legs.
I looked at her legs over the top of
my Racing Form.

the cop had also said
that if I went to driving school
that the ticket would be taken
off my record.

at ten minutes to post the horses
came out on the track and the woman
crossed her legs
and her skirt fell further back.

to hell with driving school, I
thought, a man was tortured enough
with just the daily mechanics of
his existence.

Author
Charles Bukowski
Written
1977
Source
Original manuscript
This poem appeared in the following books: